


Empty Air

by tonysleatherjacket



Series: Zalex Prompts [6]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 02:12:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonysleatherjacket/pseuds/tonysleatherjacket
Summary: Zach is so far gone for Alex, but he's too afraid of grasping at empty air around him.





	Empty Air

**Author's Note:**

> You can submit zalex one-shot prompts for me to write in the comments or on my tumblr @tonysleatherjacket

It didn’t happen the night of the locker room incident. It didn’t happen the night I taught him how to slow dance. It happened on a random Tuesday night during the summer, when I was sleeping over at his house. It was about one in the morning, and Alex was sleeping soundly beside me after playing mind numbingly boring video games for hours. Like seriously, what even was the point of a video game without violence?

I could feel the heat of his body so close to me, hear the quiet sound of his slow breathing. I found it nearly impossible, that I was able to hear his breathing at all over the sound of my heart beating out of my chest. It wasn’t an anxiety thing, but my heart was racing like I was having a panic attack. In that moment, I never wanted to get so far away from another person before. Or do the exact opposite. I didn’t know. I had never felt such contradicting emotions before in my life.

 _Go to fucking sleep_ , I willed myself, even though I was pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep for hours. I just felt so aware of Alex’s body next to mine. It made my skin prickle.

When I saw him the next morning, bleary blue eyes squinting up at me as he woke up, my face felt so hot I didn’t think it would ever stop being red. My whole body was tingling. I was worried he would just _know_.

 

-

 

It wasn’t even a sexual thing, not at first anyway. I think that’s part of why it took me so long to realize, for it to register in my brain that my feelings towards Alex were anything _but_ friendly. I couldn’t even explain it to myself, really, how I felt about him. One look from him was like dousing myself in gasoline. I was spiraling towards explosion _every single time_.

I wanted to tell him. I thought about it every time we were alone. But my mouth could never move, my lips could never even form the words. It was like the words were clearly imprinted in my brain, but my head and mouth weren’t even speaking the same language.

 

-

 

And then something completely unexpected happened. It was nearing the end of summer and we were both at my house for another grueling physical therapy session. Alex was getting stronger every day, and it was a constant battle between trying to push him harder, but not to push him too hard, not to give him more than he could handle. Because Alex had been doing great during his recovery, but there were still the bad days. Days where he yelled at me so loud and for so long he nearly lost his voice. And there were also days where he told me he didn’t know if he was capable of ever getting any better. When you are doing physical therapy, it doesn’t only focus on your outside. You have to want to get better on the inside too.

Alex walked into my bedroom after his shower as I was flipping through my twitter feed. I looked up at him, and I knew there was something he wanted to tell me. I could see it in his face. I put down my phone, and he walked over and sat down next to me on my bed with far less struggle than he did a few months ago. Sometimes I think he is so comfortable around me, he’s able to move easier. It’s probably dumb.

He keeps a hand over the handle of his cane, like he’s debating whether or not to get right back up. “So, there’s kind of something I wanted to talk to you about.” He says the words slowly and deliberately, without meeting my gaze. I shift closer to him out of habit.

“Okay, what’s up?”

“So, the thing is.” He starts what seems like will be a very heavy and dreaded series of words. His thumb runs up and down the rubber handle of his cane, something he only ever does when he’s nervous. He’s weighing over his words like he’s been giving this a lot of thought. I can’t imagine there being anything so hard for him to tell me.

He lifts his eyes up to meet my waiting gaze. “I like you.” The words come out slightly breathy, as if it took everything in him to say those three little words.

“Um, I like you too, man.” I laugh in a way that sounds foreign to me.

“ _No_.” He insists, eyes narrowing like he’s trying to make me understand so he doesn’t have to say the words I already know. “I have feelings for you.”

He feels oceans away, even though we’re sitting so close to each other our legs are nearly brushing. I feel like if I were to reach out to him, my hands would only grasp at fleeting, empty air.

I don’t say anything, can’t even trust my stupid voice to utter a single word without pathetically bursting into tears. Because the thing is, I have so many different emotions and feelings about Alex, I don’t know the first thing about how to explain them to him.

“Oh, god.” He groans, his bad hand twitching and beginning to shake as he looks everywhere but at me. When our gaze breaks, it feels like something ice cold punctures right through me. “This was a bad idea. I never should have said anything.”

“Alex, come on.” I try to reassure him, but I know what the situation must seem like. Like I’m rejecting him.

“I’m such a fucking idiot.” He bites out the words and I can feel the bitterness and regret coming off of him in waves. The shame I feel is so strong, I’m afraid I’ll never stop feeling it.

“No, you aren’t.” The words are right there waiting before me, everything I’ve been wanting to tell him for ages. That I wake up some mornings, from dreams about him that leave me aching with a want, with a _need_ , I’ve never felt before. That I spend hours sometimes thinking about what it would feel like to touch every part of his body; from the scar on his scalp to every curve and intimate detail of his skin. I want to memorize every inch of him. But the words never come. They die on my tongue.

And then I’m reaching out to him, but he’s already standing up on unsteady feet, taking wobbly steps. My hands slip right through the empty air. I don’t know why I couldn’t say anything. It should have been easy.

“Forget I said anything at all.” It just sounds so final.

“Where the fuck are you going, Alex?” I call out to him.

“I’m your ride, remember?”

“I’ll call my brother to come pick me up, don’t worry.”

But I do worry. I always worry. I don’t think I’ll ever stop worrying about him. It reminds me of something my mother once said to me, after I opened up to her about how alone and lost I felt. That I thought more than once about killing myself. T _hat’s how you know you love someone, when you worry so much about them it consumes you. You’re my son and I worry everyday that you’ll give into these bad thoughts eventually. But I am going to try my best to say and do the things I hope make you never think about doing that again._

And then he is out the door. I want to run after him, but my legs feel like jelly. It feels like I’ll never be able to walk again, which I know probably sounds like a pretty insensitive thing to think, but I can’t think of a more accurate way to describe it. I want to run after him, but I’m afraid of only grasping at empty air.

 

-

 

He doesn’t answer my texts or calls. I’m not sure I would’ve either if I was in his position. It’s only a few days before school starts, and I had hoped more than anything I would no longer be a coward by my senior year. I just find myself keep getting caught up in my past. Everything I wasn’t strong enough to do. Ask Hannah if she needed help, ask for help myself. Tell her how much I really cared about her. Tell my friends. Stand up to my friends. I was always a million steps behind. I always waited until it was too late.

“So, what the fuck is up with you and Standall?” Justin questions me. It’s the day before school starts, and we’re sitting in a booth in the back of Monet’s. Justin’s just gotten out of juvie, his six-month sentence shortened for good behavior. He’s been pretty busy recently, celebrating with his newfound family. This is the first time we’ve hung out in months, apart from me visiting him when he was locked up.

“What do you mean?” My hands cup around my mug of coffee that’s too hot to drink just yet.

“I _mean_ , what did you do to him? Jess says he’s all mopey and shit over something that went down between you two.”

“He told me something and I guess I didn’t respond to it in the best way.”

I blow on my coffee before taking a tiny sip.

“Well, so why don’t you fix it? Apologize or whatever.”

“I’ve tried.” I shrug. “But he won’t return my calls or texts. He’s completely avoiding me. He’s missed three of our physical therapy sessions.”

Justin rolls his eyes as he licks the whipped cream on the top of his drink. He looks so smug I have half a nerve to punch him right in the face.

“What?”

“Dude,” He says with a laugh, like I’m the most clueless idiot in the world. In a way, I guess I am. “Go to his fucking house. Sit him down, say whatever the fuck you need to stay. Man. The. Fuck. Up.”

“You know, it’s pretty hard to take you seriously right now when you have whipped cream on your nose.” He throws packets of sugar at me, and then it’s an all-out war that brings a sudden end to the conversation. But I know he’s right. He always is these days. Sober for real is a good look on him.

 

-

 

The sun has already started to set by the time I pull into his driveway. I know my mom will be expecting me home soon. But after talking to Justin at the coffee-shop, I knew this couldn’t wait.

It’s Alex’s mother who greets me at the door. She’s wearing scrubs with little hearts all over. Her smile is so warm, it calms my nerves a little. “Zach, it’s so good to see you again. I didn’t know Alex was expecting you.”

“We didn’t have plans but I just really needed to talk to him about something.”

“Alright, well he’s just up in his room right now. I’m about to leave for my shift, I trust you boys to behave yourselves when I’m gone.”

“Yes ma’am.”

I take the stairs two at a time and when I open the door, he doesn’t see me at first. He’s got his headphones in, and a tattered copy of _The Bell Jar_ open in front of him. The fucking emo prick that he is.

“Alex.” I try to shout, but he still can’t hear me. I shut the door behind me and sit down on the bed. He jumps, removing the earbuds and looking up at me. There’s panic written all over his face and I can see him trying to close up on me before he even speaks.

“What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you.” He dog ears the page and sets his book down.

“Listen, if this is about what I told you the other day, seriously forget about it. I was totally kidding.”

“You were kidding?” I press, knowing instantly that he’s lying. Alex has never been a good liar.

“Yeah.” He shrugs. “I thought it would be funny. Make you think I was into you or some shit.”

I scoot closer to him. “I’m not laughing.” I say, and do something that catches us both off guard. I kiss him. His lips are soft and he tastes like ranch dressing. I don’t know what’s come over me, but I think I found it easier than trying to explain to him how I felt when I could tell he was still so angry at me. He starts to kiss me back, but only for a fleeting second.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“I’m sorry for not saying anything before. I just didn’t know how to react.”

“What, so you thought kissing me would make me feel better after being fucking rejected? Screw you, Zach.”

“No!” I try to grab his arm, but he shoves me off. This is all turning out so horribly, horribly wrong. But this time I refuse to wallow in my self-doubt. I refuse to hide behind everything I am afraid of. “I like you, Alex. I like you so fucking much it drives me crazy.”

"Huh?" His eyebrows scrunch up together in a way that just looks so fucking adorable. 

"I think I'm in love with you, you idiot."

Then, before he even has a chance to respond, I'm kissing him again. Deeper this time, like I'm trying to put months and months of pent up angst into it. Like I'm trying to let him know how much this has been tearing me apart inside. I want him to know every single thing I feel about him, even the embarrassing and stupid things. 

Lucky for me, he kisses me back for real this time.  


End file.
